Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office


                                     The Brass-Elevator Mountaineer

                                                A weak imitation of

                                                  Osip Mandelstam

                                  For whom we pray, “Memory eternal”


Our lives no longer sense truth around them
In our ewails we are afraid of each other’s words

But whenever there’s an eye-rolled whisper
It’s about the brass-elevator mountaineer

The ten tiny worms of his fingers
His words like mountains of loot

The waving tendrils atop his head
The glitter of his shiny Tesla

Wheels stained with a **** of groveling bosses
He toys with the tributes of his house pets:

          One clenches his fisties
          Another salutes
          A third pledges eternal loyalty

He pokes out his fingers and grabs ‘em by their _

He magic-markers mass deportations:
Three hundred or more for El Salvador
A hundred or so for Guantanamo
Uncounted hundreds to disappear
From routine check-ins here

             “Your search has returned zero (0) matching records”

He rolls the possibilities of _ ___ on his tongue
          like diet sodas
He wishes he could deport his former best friends forever

Our lives no longer sense truth around them

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                                        A Cup of Coffee Not to Go

APP ORDERS ONLY
APP ORDERS ONLY
APP ORDERS ONLY
APP ORDERS ONLY
APP ORDERS ONLY
APP ORDERS ONLY
OUT OF ORDER
OUT OF ORDER
DRIVE THRU CLOSED TODAY


EXIT

Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
                                              
                                                Ever England

                                   For The Battle of Britain Day

Brave Hurricanes and Spits still claw and climb
Far up into the English summer sky
At the lingering end of a golden time
As wild young lads and aging empires die

The Hood and the Rodney still the Channel guard
Against the strident Men of Destiny
Then shellfire falls; the helm is over hard
But the brave old ships keep the Narrow Sea

Dear Grandpa and the boys sport thin tin hats
In Sunday afternoon’s invasion drill
Gram says he’s too ****** old for all of that
But she too smells the smoke of Abbeville

Faith does not pass with ephemeral time:
Brave Hurricanes and Spits still claw and climb



Previously published some years ago in longbowsandrosarybeads.blogspot.com before that delightful site was taken over and renamed by Gringottsy grouches and grinches and grumps.

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                                       *** Toys and Goal to Go

          NFL game interrupted by *** toy at most confusing time
          possible and CBS fooled - The Mirror US

There are sports, and then there are sports
Whether in a warm bed or upon a playing field
For after the game young lovers’ disports
Follow when to each other happy love-birds yield

It seems rather awkward when curious *** toys
Are flung onto the fifty-yard line, or even more
Toward the goal while our favorite boys
Anticipate later that night quite another score

Oh, football fans!

Do think of the children, and try to refrain
From tossing toys (well, maybe an electric train)

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                              Grandmama’s Methodist Bible


                          “For all find what they truly seek”

                        -Aslan in C. S. Lewis’ The Last Battle


The well-worn Bible my Methodist grandmother loved
Sunday school pictures of Jesus, brave and kind
Chaplains who suffered with us in Viet-Nam
Prison pastors who bring Light into the dark

The ministers and faithful in contested streets
The priest who blessed my mother as she died
Those sturdy Baptist friends who bless my days
The Glorious Mysteries in the Rosary of being

I love The Story in word and prayer and song -
But those who force a Reichskirche upon us
                                                              are wrong

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

How to Respond Diplomatically to Those Who Want to Trap You into Saying Something Intemperate about Political Violence for Which They Will Denounce You on the InterGossip


          “We can’t go arresting people for what they say in a private
           conversation…I’ve no doubt that we shall come to that
           eventually, but in the present state of our struggle for
           freedom it just can’t be done.”

                        -Evelyn Waugh, Put Out More Flags



                        You have the right to remain silent

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                             Maybe Li Po was from East Texas?


                               I can remember when I
                               Was Li Po, and not Li Bai

                                    -as Li Po never said


He never drank Lone Star Beer
Wine-drunk, then, he craved a boon
A reflected kiss in the water near
A kiss from the amorous moon

Cf. 300 Tang Poems, Everyman Pocket Poets, Peter Harris ed. and trans.



The story of Li Po / Li Pai’s death has no real sourcing, but it is popular. A dude who gets drunk and drowns while trying to make out with the moon reflected in the water – definitely my people!

I played with the legend in a rhymed quatrain of seven syllables per line. I was sober. Really.